


If I Could Go

by SegaBarrett



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Gen, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debra finds herself spending time with someone she wouldn't expect and learning a few things about herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Could Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_M](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Dexter, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Title is from an Angie Martinez song.

The decision had been reported via Debra Morgan’s department mailbox, from whoever was in charge of such things. She had been ordered to take at least two weeks of the ten weeks vacation she had accrued, or else… well, she wasn’t exactly sure what would happen. Probably something bad.

The only issue was that Deb had no idea where in the hell she actually would want to go on vacation. She had thought about asking Dexter, Rita, and the kids to go down to the beach with her, but after a while the beach would get distinctly old, not to mention she would eventually be the odd one out in that group, anyway.

Maybe she would just sneak some paperwork home and spend the two weeks in her apartment, catching up on some of the clearer telenovelas and eating Fritos. It didn’t sound like the worst vacation in the world, even if it wasn’t necessarily the best.

She was just on her way out when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her.

Deb whipped around – even in the station, there had been enough freak incidents that it was best to just be on her guard (she swore, Miami had to have the highest level of fucking serial killers in the entire world. Maybe even the whole fucking galaxy). 

Thankfully, it was just LaGuerta – though Deb took back her “thankfully” a second later. The woman had never respected her, had always put her down, and Deb still didn’t know why. She seemed to like Dexter well enough, after all. Maybe it was something to do with “her” department, that Deb didn’t fit into her little box of what LaGuerta felt a woman in law enforcement should be. Deb didn’t have any time for that, especially not when she was supposed to be leaving to go on “vacation”, whatever that might entail.

“Hi, Detective Morgan.”

Deb let out a barely concealed sigh.

“Lieutenant.” She just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I heard the captain sent you on forcible vacation for two weeks.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my decision, okay? Don’t start chewing me out about it. I would rather stay at work.”

“He’s sending me out, too. Probably so he can screw up the entire department while I’m gone. But I checked with the union, and apparently that’s his prerogative.”

“…Well, that sucks a bit fat donkey dick… But why are you telling me?”

LaGuerta flinched back a moment, giving her a distinct side-eye before sighing.

“So I have this little beach-house. I never usually have time to go there due to… well, that much is pretty obvious. But I was thinking I would go out there now – it’s close enough that if there’s a crisis, I’m available, but far enough away that unless someone gets stabbed to death on my patio, I won’t be thinking about work the entire time.”

Deb cocked her head to the side.

“That’s nice?”

She wondered why the hell LaGuerta was telling her this. What was her game?

“I was wondering if you might want to come with me.”

Deb stared at her.

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“Well, now I’m regretting ever mentioning it, if your plan is just to curse at me…”

“No, no…” Deb sighed and put up her hands. “I got nothing else planned. Hell, let’s do it.”

“You’re sure now?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t have anything better to do.”

***

“Nice little place you got here,” Deb commented as they stepped onto the pavement in front of the beach motel’s front office. “This reminds me of when I was a kid.”

LaGuerta let out a little snort.

“You probably had a real nice upbringing, Morgan.”

“I figure if we’re on vacation, you can call me Deb.”

Deb wondered again exactly what had brought her here. Sheer boredom, she figured, because spending two weeks with LaGuerta was probably one of the innermost circles of Dante’s Inferno. 

But here she was. Maybe she was trying to figure out what was going on beneath the hood, so to speak. 

Maybe she wondered how LaGuerta had risen to the rank that she had – was that something Deb could achieve? And did she even want to? LaGuerta always seemed so cold, so willing to do whatever it took to succeed, no matter who she hurt. She still remembered the sneers back when Deb had been in vice, and the nasty trick she’d pulled on Esme Pascal. She wanted to succeed, too, but if that was the cost, was it worth it? And how could she even begin to ask a question like that?

She waited until LaGuerta checked them in – a nice little room with, thankfully, two beds; Deb wasn’t sure she wanted to be that close to the LaGuerta Slumber Party of Doom.

“So were you always like this?” she said finally.

“Like how?” LaGuerta asked. Deb watched her take off her watch and then her necklace and rings, placing them on the nightstand.

“Like you don’t care about anyone.”

LaGuerta shrugged.

“I’ve always been me,” she said simply, “Have you always been you?”

Deb knew for sure that she had. She could never shut it off, even when she had wanted to. She could remember being a kid, tiny really, and listening to Dexter arguing with their father in hushed voices that she couldn’t quite make out.

She had wanted to be included, yes, but most of all she just wanted everyone she loved to not hurt anymore.

She had wanted to help people, to save people, to make her family proud.

How could she ever just turn that off? 

“I’d fucking say so.”

LaGuerta raised an eyebrow.

“Morgan… Debra. Sometimes I wonder if you just learned that word yesterday, considering how often you say it. Then again, when I first learned English, I was relatively fascinated by all the dirty words, too. However, I was also six.”

Deb rolled her eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck – it’s just a word.”

“…You’re pretty immature.”

Deb smirked, but she wondered about it – maybe LaGuerta had a point…

A second later, she rejected that.

Whether she had a point or not, there was no way she wanted to end up like that.

***

“So you don’t actually swim in the water. You just sit here and watch it.”

Maybe now Deb was splitting hairs – at her age, and boy, was that a weird phrase to think, she didn’t have the energy she had as a kid. But back then, she’d been all over the water and the sand, building sand castles and running up into the waves. It had been so freeing.

“I had my fill of the water a long time ago,” LaGuerta replied with a shrug.

Deb turned her head.

“You planning to explain that, or just to sort of look at me like you keep saying things that are really profound?”

LaGuerta slammed her hand against the edge of the lawn chair, and Deb flinched. She’d never seen her get mad so suddenly before – she’d pictured an angry LaGuerta as a slow burn LaGuerta, petting a cat while plotting deviously.

“You think everyone has it as easy as you, Morgan? That everyone should just sit back and let good things float over to them?”

Deb opened her mouth to respond, but as quick as a whip, LaGuerta cut her off.

“Your parents loved your brother enough to take him into your family. That’s nice. That’s sweet – and now you can see your brother any time you want, morning, noon, night, at work, at home, on the weekends. I don’t begrudge you that, Morgan. But my parents, they loved me in a very different way. They loved me enough to put me on a boat and send me away. You know I have a brother? I’ve never met him, and never will, until my country sorts its shit out. So think about that for five seconds when you want to go on another profanity-laden diatribe about how I don’t know how to relax.”

Deb reeled back. She didn’t know exactly how to react, whether to be offended at how LaGuerta had railed at her for being one of the privileged (try watching both your parents die and see how you like it, Deb thought viciously, but then decided she wouldn’t wish that on anyone) or be amazed that she’d somehow managed to rattle the un-rattleable. It was actually kind of impressive.

And so she said nothing at all. They sat there, chairs side by side, not talking until the sun went down and it was time to leave.

***

They stood out on the balcony and watched the sun come up the next morning.

Deb could remember picturing herself in a cop uniform when she was ten years old, thinking to herself that it would make her father notice her and not just Dexter.

Maybe she couldn’t be his son, but she could be his cop. 

Dexter had never wanted to be a police officer – he had never run fast or wanted to be in sports. He’d always had his head in a book, up until college, when suddenly he’d started mentioning marital arts and fencing and Deb had been jealous. 

Because that had always been Deb; she’d be first doubles on her tennis team, she’d had the fastest mile time, and she had even picked up badminton in her free time. She’d sat around watching true crime and cop shows. She’d tried everything – everything. And yet it had never been enough.

She let her fingers tap against the fence that protected them from the drop below.

There wasn’t anything that could protect someone from themselves.

Maybe they were all adrift, floating in the ocean. Maybe that was the answer.


End file.
